


Thine is the Kingdom

by MercurySkies



Series: Kingdom Come [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurySkies/pseuds/MercurySkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thank you,” he says, heavy with sincerity “for welcoming me into your kingdom.” Merlin looks at him confused before huffing a laugh. He twirls a fingertip through the air and roses float from the ground and fashion themselves into a crown atop his head. “My kingdom is your kingdom.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thine is the Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! So I decided to make this part of the same series as King of Thorns because I found myself suddenly irrevocably in love with this version of Merlin and Arthur and couldn't let this little world of Merthur be. This piece is a little more story driven than King of Thorns but I hope you guys like it just the same. I had some lovely comments on that story so I felt even more compelled to write something else. Thank you for reading and for such a warm welcome to the Merlin fandom :)

Arthur smiles as they walk. He can feel Merlin’s hand shaking in his own even if his eyes remain forward, smile fixed firmly in place. They automatically make their way to his chambers, walking down corridors and up staircases on instinct, Merlin’s smile fading a little with each step even when the gold of his irises still remains. He’s calmer after what had happened in the clearing, but an almost imperceptible tremor runs through him, his new found majesty falling away to expose a glimpse of the same vulnerable man he’d held until long past the dawn.

Once through the doors Merlin heads straight to the alcove similar to the one in his own chambers and looks out as the sun begins to descend on Camelot. Arthur can’t do anything but watch for a little while enthralled and confused that Merlin had been so much more in so many ways, for so many years. He tries to think back, tries to spot the glimpses of the Merlin in front of him in his past and comes to only two conclusions. The first being that Merlin had barely even approached using the full extent of his power until the night prior and the second that it completely terrified him. Merlin carried the air of a man who had awoken something inside himself that was entirely beyond his own comprehension.

But the sun is setting and Merlin is still just Merlin. Loyal, selfless, _lovable_ , Merlin. He’s aglow in the burnished light, throwing him into stark relief, shadows gracing the hollow of his throat and the bite of his jaw. Arthur takes a step forward, intending to reach out and touch and Merlin turns, the troubling, far off look receding as he seems to come back to himself. “Sorry, I- sorry.” He mutters, smiling sheepishly. He reaches up to remove his crown of roses but Arthur stops him, touch feather light.

“Don’t.” He says, adjusting it and brushing a shaking hand through Merlin’s hair. “It suits you.” He kisses him, gentle and fleeting. He watches as Merlin closes his eyes, resting their foreheads together. “You’re more than worthy of it.” _More worthy than me_ he thinks as Merlin sighs.

“You should get some rest.” He says, stepping away. Merlin’s smile is blinding as he casts away his crown and proceeds to throw himself onto Arthur’s bed and make himself quite at home. “Okay.” He mumbles, eyes already slipping closed, the combination of warmth and soft sheets lulling him quickly to sleep. Arthur rolls his eyes and leaves, he’s still the King, he has duties to attend to. The kiss lingers with him throughout the evening and it’s not until he slips into bed beside a sound asleep Merlin that he realises he hopes it would linger forever.

* * *

 

The adjustment isn’t easy. Nothing is ever easy for Merlin. He resumes his position as Court Sorcerer but there’s something different, something inherently more to the station he now occupies. While it’s true that Arthur has always given him more room to express his own opinions on state affairs than was strictly appropriate given his position, this allowance has almost extended to free reign, or so to speak. Arthur shrugs it off every time he mentions it, waving it away dismissively he says “You’re a valued member of the council Merlin, of course your thoughts on such matters are appreciated.” It’s more than that though. Those he passes in the castle halls avoid his gaze in deference and something sad but altogether visceral sings within him.

Each day passes and he becomes more sure, he’d be terrified of the feeling if it didn’t feel so inherently right. He was more himself than he had ever been and it was exhilarating. He felt balanced, having never used his power to almost its full extent, it had almost suppressed itself, tipping the scale in the favour of chaos, as if he had never been using enough magic to truly be alive. He feels light for the first time. But nothing is easy for Merlin, the freedom too good to last.

He knows that the court is a source of gossip and tries not to listen but hearing his own name amongst the slander has always stung. Usually he can ignore it, he’s endured far worse than simple liars. On his way to the lower town to tend to some children bedridden with fever he hears hushed voices in a shadowed alcove and can’t help but listen.

“Sounds to me like his highness is scared of the dolt.” A man sneers to his companion and Merlin can almost feel his face drain of colour. “The way he lets him waltz about, never bowing anymore, calling him ‘Arthur’.”

“He’s always been soft that one, weak.” The other man replies nodding “The Court Sorcerer probably has him right where he wants him, we can all see he has power enough to...”

“To what exactly?” Merlin says, his voice pleasant but sending a chill right to the core of the men in front of him. “Take the throne? Kill the King?” He says as if he’s ever even given it a thought. “If that’s my intention and, as you say, I do have power enough... Surely I’d have done it by now.” Gold flares in his irises and he remains blocking the exit, a small part of him delighting in the dread darkening the features of the two men. “What you’ve spoken here today is treason. What are your names?” He says sharply, trying to breathe deeply, to not let anger and the notion that Arthur might be scared of him overwhelm and cloud his judgements. The men simply stutter in response.

“You can either tell me your names...” He says calmly, raising a hand gracefully in front of him and conjuring a harmless flame “Or I can make you tell me.”

“Erol Drake, sire”

“Daniel Jenkins, sire”

The two men look so terrified that he suddenly feels awful, feeling bile crawl up his throat, disgusted by his own actions. “I’m not your sire,” he chokes out “and I will not be speaking to the relevant authorities about this. Do not speak ill of our king again.” He lets them pass and hurries onward to tend to the children, fearful gazes haunting him even as their mother beams at him in welcome.

* * *

 

Merlin disappears again. Arthur has at least five guards and three of the knights looking for him until he simply accepts it and follows Merlin’s path from the city out into the surrounding forest. He finds him quickly considering Merlin hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks. He doesn’t hide from him, not anymore. He enters a clearing, not dissimilar to the the other Arthur had found him in and blinks in shock. There’s a stag resting amongst blooming roses and it takes a few minutes for him to realise that the stag is actually Merlin. Before he can even greet him Merlin is Merlin again, crosslegged and sheepish amongst his field of roses. “Hi” he says softly and Arthur starts to go to him but finds himself stopped once more. Arthur gives him a reproachful look. “Sorry it just happens naturally whenever I’m on my own out here, I don’t have conscious control over it.” He shrugs, hands fidgeting in his lap, looking very much like a startled deer.

Arthur takes a deep breath and finds no resistance when he tries again, his gaze focused on the fidgeting of Merlin’s pale fingers and the worry in gold flooded eyes. Merlin smiles with relief and reaches out to him as Arthur approaches, as if he had been scared that he would be unable to break down the magical barrier a second time. Arthur takes his hand, a critical eye sweeping over Merlin’s body looking for signs of harm. All he sees is anxiety and exhaustion. “Can you make those lights again?” Arthur asks smiling. He loves seeing Merlin’s magic at work, loves the way he glows with it, the gestures, the incantation, the eyes. Merlin rolls his eyes “It’s not dark enough yet you prat.”

“Then make it dark.” He says shrugging, as if challenging him.

Without looking away Merlin casts his arms out to his sides, palms upward. Slowly he raises them and the trees begin to bend above them , the canopy of leaves overlapping and growing so dense that almost none of the late afternoon sun reaches them on the forest floor. Arthur doesn't spare the trees a glance, just watches Merlin’s eyes pulse with gold, drowning in their intensity and the pleasant hum of energy descending on the clearing like mist. Once sufficiently dark Merlin brings his hands in front of him and takes Arthur’s hands in his own, fingers tangled together. When he turns them upwards and lets go, lights begin to drift away, spiralling through the air and scattering to swirl around them. Merlin grins as Arthur looks upon them in awe and delight.

Surrounded by so much beauty Arthur suddenly feels a surge of solemnity and respect for the man in front of him. “Thank you,” he says, heavy with sincerity “for welcoming me into your kingdom.” Merlin looks at him confused before huffing a laugh. He twirls a fingertip through the air and roses float from the ground and fashion themselves into a crown atop his head. “My kingdom is your kingdom.” He replies halfway through fashioning Arthur his own crown out of gladiolus and calla flowers.

“And mine is your’s.” Arthur says seriously as the crown settles itself on his own head.

Merlin just laughs again “Arthur I’m no king.”

“But you could be.” he mutters quietly, looking down at where their fingers had intertwined.

“Are you serious?” Merlin exclaims in disbelief the air trembling with his uncertainty. “So this is what all of that was about, asking my opinion about everything, including me more and more in council meetings. You want me to be king? How would- why would- the people would never-”

“Merlin just listen.” Arthur says with finality, a hand cupping Merlin’s jaw to keep his eyes trained on his own. “I've given it a lot of thought and there’s no one else in this world I could ever rule alongside. It’s not typical and the logistics are going to be hellish but I've made my decision. If you want to I’d love it if you’d rule alongside me, in whichever capacity you wish.”

“C-capacity?” Merlin stutters, unable to quite comprehend what is being asked of him.

“As an adviser, as a shadow king, a-as my consort.”

“Consort? Arthur we- we hadn't so much as spoken about us-this,” he gestured at their interlocked hands “until yesterday. You really-”

“Care for you that much? In time, and we have time, Merlin, we- God now who’s being a girl?” Arthur replies exasperated. “All I’m saying is... What’s mine is your’s.”

“But a whole kingdom?

“A kingdom that wouldn't stand today if it weren't for you.” With Arthur’s words Merlin flinches, his expression shadowed with fear and shame.

“I’m no king.” He says again “I threatened some townspeople today, they _feared_ me.” Arthur rolls his eyes.

“They have good reason to.” He replies, wishing too late that he could take the words back after seeing the look of devastation in Merlin’s eyes.

“I don’t want anyone to fear me. I-I overheard them talking, they said that you were weak and that I was manipulating you, that my magic scared you.” Arthur is silent.

“Does it? Does it scare you? Do _I_ scare you?” Merlin asks desperately.

“No.” Arthur replies with certainty. “I’m scared of what it can do to _you_. I saw you in that clearing Merlin, it was driving you half mad trying to get out, shaking and sobbing, you hadn't slept since you left Camelot. I was scared I was going to lose you.”

“You should be scared of me.” Merlin rambles. “I threatened them, conjured fire and blocked their path until they told me their names.”

“I’m not scared of you.” Arthur tells him with finality, his voice strong and unwavering. “I take it you showed them mercy? More than they deserved I bet. They spoke treason and yet you haven’t told me their names. And I take it they told you, they would've been fools not to.” Merlin tries to protest, panic slowly flaring in his eyes until Arthur pulls him in for a kiss, hard and bruising. “You’re too good for this world, _Em_ rys.” Arthur whispers, somehow managing to say his true name with the same condescending inflection he gives the name Hunith gave him. “You give two treasonous low lifes a bit of a fright and you think yourself unworthy, get a grip.” He leans back and gives Merlin’s left ear a flick, jostling his crown. “And you call yourself the greatest sorcerer to ever live.”

“To be fair,” Merlin replies, the panic and guilt fading from his eyes as the colour returns to his cheeks, making them flush sweetly “I've never called myself that.”

“Oh I bet you have.” Arthur replies smiling, leaning in to Merlin’s space until there’s nothing for him to do but lay back in the lush grass. “When you were a lowly manservant polishing my boots I bet you muttered about it to yourself all the live long day.”

“I-I did not. I didn’t.” Merlin protests weakly as Arthur peppers kisses along his cheekbone and down to his jaw.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur smirks, breath hot against the pale skin of Merlin’s neck “you’re a terrible liar.”

 


End file.
